Right Place, Right Time
by cate's corner
Summary: A 'missing scene' background story, set before Runner. Evan Lorne and John Sheppard meet for the first time. You just know those boys won't do it the easy way!


Right Place, Right Time by catescorner

Yes, folks, I'm back! The plot bunnies have struck again, from an idea I had while watching Runner. It's my favourite episode, so - yep, it gets played quite a lot!

It's never fully explained how Lorne gets transferred from SG11 to Atlantis. But coming so soon after the losses of Bates and Ford, I figured it had to take place pretty quickly, to give Sheppard and Elizabeth some extra support. So these are my thoughts on how Evan made his way from the SGC to Atlantis.

Again, I've used a bit of licence with the final part. It may not be military protocol, but I thought it would fit with the rest of the story.

I hope you enjoy it!

Right Place, Right Time

John Sheppard was tired. No, scratch that. He wasn't just tired, he was all out, undeniably exhausted. Physically and emotionally drained, he could crawl into his bed right now, and sleep until Christmas. But as he'd quickly discovered, the mantle of leadership rarely, if ever, allowed for such luxury – especially when, as now, you faced the task that every leader, military or otherwise, silently dreaded.

Atlantis had survived the Wraith attack. But victory had come at a devastatingly high price. He'd lost two key members of his team – if not to death, then to a fate that was equally cruel. If Bates ever woke up, he'd be trapped inside a useless body, and as for Ford, wherever _he_ was – no, with his imagination running riot through his conscience, John couldn't face that thought right now. Instead, he pushed it aside, and focussed instead on trying to ease the bravely hidden pain of another.

Behind _her_ mask of leadership, he knew that Elizabeth was grieving too, for her own tragic loss. Peter Grodin had been a good friend. The rock of reliability, who'd seen her through many dark hours. Even if she didn't say it, John knew she was dreading this trip home as much as he was.

Tomorrow, they'd be Gating back to the SGC with Carson and McKay, for all the wrong reasons – each of them facing the unenviable task of replacing the colleagues, the friends, they'd lost.

If just for their military requirements, Jack O'Neill had already made several recommendations. From that alone, John knew every person he'd suggested had to be a good choice, and… _hello_? Judging by the smile that had just spread over Elizabeth's face, one name had already stood out – the approval in her voice rousing enough of his interest to make him sit up in his chair, anticipating her silent suggestion for him to do the same.

"Yes, I should have guessed _he_'_d_ be included."

Intrigued by the 'he' in question, John leaned across the desk to study the screen of her data pad – taking it back with him as he settled back into his chair, and started to read through Evan Lorne's file.

Within seconds, he was taking more than a curious interest. If this already respected XO was as capable, and reliable, and resourceful, as Jack O'Neill's comments suggested, then – yes, the second in command that he needed so badly would be just as invaluable to her too.

So yes, he'd already ticked off several boxes, in a mental checklist that John was keeping tactfully quiet. As he now dryly reflected, you could never have too many flyboys to keep the grunts in line. And not to belittle that geology degree, or the geophysics MA that had followed it, but… well, flying was _waaay_ more exciting than studying rocks.

He was one hell of a pilot too, qualified on everything from helicopters to their 302s and battle cruisers. So yes, there was more to _this_ flyboy than leading the SGC's mining teams, and kick badass alien butt.

At thirty five, he was also ten years older than Ford, and those extra years gave him a distinct advantage – replacing youthful impulsiveness with the crucial ability to keep a clear head, in _every_ kind of crisis.

More boxes ticked. So far, so good. But John knew there was far more to this process than that. Personal strength of character counted too. And on Atlantis, it counted more than anything else.

Glancing between an already impressive service record and his security photo, John then frowned – trying to see past the unsmiling seriousness of military discipline, to the real person beyond. Yes, Evan Lorne was more than qualified to become his new XO, but what was he _really_ like? A trusted leader, who could lead his teams into God knew what, knowing they'd follow his orders? Or a humourless jackass, who'd panic at the first sign of trouble, and get them all killed?

Two clear blue eyes gave him his first clue, and made him smile too, as he continued to read. Evan Lorne may have kept to military protocol for that requirement, but those eyes gave him away. They were as bright with mischief as they were with intelligence, and… yeah, this looked promising.

It was another common link, though, that made John look up again, to meet Elizabeth's eyes again, and return the smile he found there.

"Pretty impressive record. And he has the ATA gene too?"

"Yes, he does. Not _quite_ as naturally as yours, but certainly as strong as Carson's," she grinned, letting that amusement grow into outright laughter at his pricelessly deadpan response.

"Well, as long as he doesn't fire a damn _Drone_ at me… yeah, he's… um, worth considering."

Seeing her nod, in such obvious approval, it wasn't hard to ask her the next, obvious question.

"And with the time he's been at the SGC, did you… um, ever work with him?"

"A few times, yes. He headed my security detail when I went off world," she replied, still smiling – knowing that he'd recognise the importance of such responsibility, _and_ the skills that came with it. "He worked with General O'Neill too, on several critical missions. Made _quite_ an impression."

Watching him nod again, Elizabeth knew he'd made quite an impression on John Sheppard too – confirming her thoughts that, if still unofficially, his search for a new second in command was over. If he agreed to it, Evan Lorne was about to be offered the job of a lifetime.

* * *

><p>John Sheppard would never say this aloud, but travelling through the Gate still kinda freaked him out. To walk into a spatial wormhole, be broken down into your molecular parts, then shot through space – yeah, if you thought about that side of it too much, you were likely to go <em>ever<em> so slightly screwy.

Of course, instant travel through incalculable distances had its upsides too, especially for going home - even if this particular trip was one that you'd had to prepare for, but hoped you'd never have to make.

Still, he couldn't dwell on that now, John knew he had to put Ford's loss behind him, and move on. And while it wasn't official, _yet_, knowing that he'd found a new XO to replace him certainly helped.

From his service file alone, and Elizabeth's own recommendations, Evan Lorne was still top of his list. First, of course, he'd have to meet him, face to face, to see if those traits were as good as they sounded. As they stepped into the SGC GateRoom, the two sides of Fate now brought that moment to them far sooner than they'd expected, and before Jack O'Neill could even start to welcome them home.

It started with the warning blare of sirens, and ended with an urgent shout from the gallery above them

"Incoming travellers! It's Major Lorne's team, sir. And they're under fire."

"No kidding," John muttered, instinctively shielding Elizabeth from a sizzling blast of plasma, then pulling her behind banks of equipment, while Carson and McKay ducked down beside her.

Once sure they were all under cover, as safe as he could possibly make them, he crawled out again, grabbing a P90 from a nearby weapons rack, before taking his place in ranks of grim faced Marines.

He wanted, so badly, to return fire, to give back as good as they were getting, but he knew he couldn't. There was no way he could risk such deadly crossfire, so… no, not yet. Wait for it. Wait for _them_.

Right on cue, two green-clad figures flew through the Gate, landing in a heap on top of the ramp. Another followed, diving down in readiness for the battle to come, as two more tumbled to safety – rows of raising P90s telling John Sheppard all he needed to know, as they opened into deafening fire.

Almost simultaneously, the iris slid shut, absorbing the last few plasma bolts that slipped through – protecting the medical teams, who now swarmed from their places of cover to reach the injured. With the threat now passed, Carson ran across to join them, determined to play his part to help.

One seemed strangely reluctant to sit still, fighting past well meaning hands to get back to his feet. Despite the flurries of organized chaos around her, Elizabeth felt herself smile at its familiarity. When it came to medical orders, it seemed that Evan Lorne and John Sheppard were already as one – a pained but determined voice confirming her thoughts that they were equally stubborn too.

"No, I'm – I'm fine, it's just a scratch. Get – Get to Coughlin, he took a much worse hit than me."

Just like Carson, the medical teams at Stargate Command knew a pointless cause when they saw it – shaking their heads, with the same exasperation, as they moved on to less rebellious patients.

If he was at all aware of the admiration beyond, then Evan Lorne had already limped away from it – moving from one gurney to another, making sure, to _his_ satisfaction, that his team were out of danger. He even raised a smile from one of them, sharing a private joke as his gurney was wheeled away. For the others, there were quiet words of encouragement before they, too, headed for the Infirmary.

Only then did he start to sway, surrendering to injuries that were slightly more than 'just a scratch'. The patch of red on his left thigh was getting bigger, alarmingly so. And it was starting to hurt. A lot.

As surges of pain finally overwhelmed the buzz of adrenalin, Evan stared down at his leg in fogged fascination.

'…_whoa_…! _That_'_s a looooot of blood_…'

'…o_h_, _yeah_… _got shot by a snakehead_…'

'…_awwww_, _cr_-'

As his legs buckled, he felt two strong arms link up around his chest, stopping him from falling further. Turning instinctively to face his rescuer, Evan then frowned as its unknown face swam into view – catching the briefest glimpse of an approving grin, a mess of dark hair, before the world turned black around him

Easing him onto a gurney that had already appeared beside him, John then stepped back again – meeting Elizabeth's eyes with the same proud smile, and the same nod of '_yeah_, _he_'_ll do_' approval. Without saying a word, or even introducing himself, he knew he'd just found his new XO, the bond between them already strong enough for him to follow Evan's gurney down to the Infirmary.

The same sense of duty compelled him to stay there, until he found out how badly he was hurt. Even when he emerged, from thankfully minor surgery, John still felt honour bound to stay with him – settling into a chair by Evan's bed, and keeping a uniquely brotherly watch over him until he woke up.

He knew that Elizabeth would be handling the _official_ side of getting him re-assigned to Atlantis. And since O'Neill had recommended him in the first place, he couldn't see any reason for him to refuse. So now he just had to wait for Evan Lorne to wake up, and hope that he accepted a _very_ special transfer.

* * *

><p>Well, this made a change. John Sheppard wasn't used to seeing an Infirmary from <em>this<em> viewpoint. Usually, he'd be lying _in_ a bed, not sitting beside it. From that alone… yeah, this was a nice change. The coffee wasn't bad either, though he'd have preferred a bit more turkey in his sandwich, and –

"Jeez, you actually _like_ that stuff?"

– even if he'd made him half choke on his coffee, it was good to see Evan Lorne return to the land of the living.

From more than professional reasons for him to come round from his surgery, John had been silently waiting for this moment. And to his amused approval, you just couldn't keep this Major down. Beyond a fog of pain-killing meds, there was still enough of a glint in his eyes to make John smile back in silent recognition. Jack O'Neill had warned him about it, when he'd called in to check on them earlier. Now he knew why. Recognized the real affection beyond the more formal, professional pride.

'_Don't be fooled by his file_, _Colonel. This kid might be quiet_, _but he_'_s_ _still full of surprises._'

Yeah, he didn't doubt that for a minute. He'd learned that lesson enough times himself to know that the quiet ones had all sorts of secret quirks up their sleeves. And if Evan Lorne took this transfer… yeah, life in his city could get _really_ interesting.

"I've had worse," he said at last, returning Evan's grin as he offered an equally easy handshake. "Major Lorne… Evan, right? Colonel John Sheppard."

"Yes, sir, I heard you were coming here," Evan nodded, his smile fading into a wince of sympathy. "I heard what happened, sir. You lost a lot of good people. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I guess it's something we've both gotten used to," John agreed just as quietly – already knowing that Evan Lorne would understand why he moved so quickly onto more positive thoughts. "But at least you got _your_ team back. Hell of a job, by the way, to get them home in one piece."

Realizing that wasn't _quite_ the case, John then winced slightly while he pointed to Evan's leg.

"Well, except for _that. _Looked nasty."

Ruefully studying the 'that' in question, Evan then shrugged while carefully levering himself up onto his pillows.

"Yeah, it kinda smarts, but you get used to it. And as Coughlin will tell you, it has its upsides."

Recognizing the injured sergeant that he'd seen joking with him in the Gate Room, John smiled too – dryly adding another connection between them, as Evan called out to the opposite bed.

"When you get hurt as often as _we_ do… well, you get your very own bed. _Right_, Coughlin?"

"Yes, sir. Complete with your very own nurse," Coughlin lobbed back, just as lightly – keeping his next thoughts wisely to himself, mouthing them behind the cover of his magazine.

"And _some_ people get two."

If he was at all aware of the effect he had on the SGC's nursing staff, then Evan Lorne wasn't showing it. Beyond this light hearted exchange with Coughlin, he had more serious things to think about – such as why he'd woken up here, with the military head of Atlantis taking such an interest in him.

He'd already guessed the most obvious reason, of course, but… well, he still had to know for sure. And while he'd put on his best poker face to hide his curiosity, Evan still felt a swell of hopeful excitement behind it. If he was about to be offered one of the SGC's most coveted assignments, then he wasn't about to turn it down.

"Yeah, keeping our galaxies safe from snakeheads and suckers has its moments," he said at last, hoping the smile that he saw tugging at Evan's mouth wasn't just from his natural sense of courtesy. From the personal side of his file, John knew he had much closer family commitments here than he did. Leaving their homeword, their home galaxy, to help protect them would be a massive decision - far harder than a simple flip of a coin.

"So despite getting shot enough times to get your own bed, you… uh, like it here? The SGC, I mean, and taking your team offworld?"

Hardly the subtlest hint that he'd ever dropped, so it wasn't surprising how Evan Lorne reacted to it. An eyebrow lifted this time, before the smile of courteous interest turned into a fully dimpled grin.

"As you'll know yourself, sir, it has its moments," Evan replied through a politely casual shrug – thinking for a moment, weighing up what this decision would mean to his mother. His sister. The kids.

Their safety meant more to him than anything else in the world, it was why he'd joined the SGC in the first place, so – yes, with this new threat joining that of the Goa'uld, he knew it was an easy decision to reach.

Realizing that his potentially new CO was still waiting for him to make it official, Evan then smiled – meeting this new challenge with the directness that all the best COs, new and otherwise, deserved.

"But as long as I'm doing what I've been trained for, sir, keeping my country and my homeworld safe, I don't mind _where_ I'm sent to do it."

His mission accomplished, John grinned too, feeling the weight of two worlds lift from his shoulders. From just this first meeting, he'd felt a special connection, a common interest, between them.

They both lived by the same code of honour – that you fought like hell to protect your team. You'd go back to that hell, without question, to bring them home against the most impossible odds. And the team he'd found here, albeit in a row of hospital beds, was clearly as good as they came. Separating them from such a trusted, respected leader would be personally, _and_ tactically, stupid.

The solution was equally obvious, of course, and Evan Lorne was already displaying a useful ability to read his mind. He'd have to ask them personally, of course, and get formal clearance from Jack O'Neill, but – no, once they were fit again, and if they agreed to it, this team would be heading, _together_, for Atlantis.

So yes, from those lousiest reasons to come here, John Sheppard was now deeply grateful that he had. He didn't just have a new XO, he had a ready-made backup team too. Evan Lorne would lead them, and take command of Atlantis too when he had to, with a calm maturity that Aiden Ford hadn't always had. And the SGC's loss would be his, and Elizabeth's, and the Pegasus galaxy's, invaluable gain.


End file.
